Tempestuous
by Sophia Banks
Summary: After some advice from Chloe, Samantha Myers takes it into her own hands to help Nathan Prescott. -Kind of shippy, but could be viewed as friendship, because I love both! (Rated T for swearing. Very minor spoilers for Before The Storm Ep. 2)


**Tempestuous-**

Samantha had to stop and just...breathe, for a moment. The entrance to the boy's changing tent loomed like the opened mouth of a dragon. After another moment's hesitation she nodded sharply to herself, then looked over both of her shoulders to ensure that no one was watching. Few things could be considered more embarrassing to Samantha than being caught entering the "boy's room". Although Chloe would probably give her a high five or something.

The farther the young woman went into the small space the better she could hear an incessant mumbling, quick and breathless. She made it past a barrier to reveal two mirrors resting on desks. Makeup had been scattered about the dark wood surfaces, most of them covering the body of Caliban. Samantha noted a duffel bag with Hayden's clothes draped over the top resting unassumingly in a corner of the tent. At the farthest wall there was a divider for the actors to change behind, a poster for the play taped lazily to it. Another wall, just opposite the mirrors, had costume the boy's costume designs (all two of them) hanging beautifully. She stopped only when she was sure no one from the outside could see her, hand rising to tug at her sleeve as she observed the hunched figure breaking what was otherwise a serene scene. Nathan had seated himself on a metal foldout chair in front of one of the desks, one knee pulled towards his narrow chest. He read in a whisper to himself from a well worn Tempest script, almost feverish in his intensity. Samantha felt something inside of her break a little. He had memorized those lines ages before everyone else, he didn't _need_ to practice!

The young woman opened her mouth to say something encouraging or confident, but stopped. What she would give to be someone like Rachel or Chloe, who always had clever words on the tip of their tongues. Samantha had always been slow on the uptake, speech didn't come when it should have. Little miss Myers was always going to be at the sidelines, urging someone else to fight until she could get up the nerve. She was shy, and so many people had used that word to describe her it had begun to lose all meaning. _I suppose it's better than being called a bitch..._ This wasn't about her though. It was about Nathan. With him, she could find her voice, she knew she could! "Nathan?" gentle and without confrontation, she made her presence known. He stopped reading to look at her with wide, slightly confused eyes. "What the Hell- this is the boy's tent! You some kind of perv?" there was a light note that suggested this was a joke, though he remained coiled like a spring. Samantha smiled and tilted her head a little, "No. Actually I was- I wanted to see if you were okay," her gaze met his for only a second before Nathan turned his head away. She could see his painted, expressive face in the mirror. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his lips pursed, "I'm fine. And even if I wasn't, it isn't anyone's fucking problem but mine. Why don't you stick your nose in someone else's business." Nathan's voice was tight and controlled, squeezing The Tempest in his hands so hard Samantha thought it might tear in two.

She'd half expected him to shout, and swear some more (she wouldn't blame him) but he didn't. Anger was by far Nathan Prescott's greatest defense mechanism. Samantha had grown used to noticing the way people handled embarrassment and being hurt, most of them weren't quite as obvious about it, but there were telltale signs. Sarcasm was Chloe's favorite. "I just wanted to help," she replied calmly, her expression soft and concerned, "I heard what your dad said and I-"

Nathan stood up quickly and shouted a long collection of curse words. With a mighty throw the script he had been so intently studying hit the wall of the tent, missing Samantha by about a foot! The fabric rippled at the contact. He breathed heavily, glaring at Samantha like a caged tiger. It startled Samantha how skinny he was, how intimidating he was despite his height. Unlike his father, Nathan had a wiry frame and an almost delicate look to his face, especially when he smiled. His Caliban makeup made him look garish and deranged, but his whole body was trembling. _Twitch._ "I- I didn't-" Samantha said quietly. Her lungs didn't want to take in enough air. Nathan's expression faltered, something like regret, then he looking at the floor. One hand rose to dig into his thick, honey-brown hair, carefully avoiding the bits and bobs tucked within that were parts of his costume. He didn't say anything for the longest time, just looked like a kicked puppy. "Sorry," he mumbled. Samantha took in a calming breath and found the strength to place a hand on his shoulder, "It's… It's okay. I didn't mean to make you upset."

Nathan twisted away from her touch, but not in a hostile way. "Do-do you want to talk about it?" pressed the young woman, still gentle, but more insistent. He shrugged narrow shoulders, "'thefuckever" he mumbled, "My dad is an asshole. Nothing new."

That wasn't it though, was it. At least, not all of it.

Samantha tilted her head, "So, why do you listen to him?" Nathan visibly stiffened. She immediately regretted the question, but she also needed him to voice what was going on between him and his father. Nathan raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, just...looking at her. She could see it in his eyes. _Because he's my dad. Because, despite everything, I love him. Because all I've ever wanted to do is just make him proud!_ It was sickening the way Sean Prescott treated his son, and the power he had over him... but _sweet_ the way Nathan felt about his dad nonetheless. "Doesn't matter," he hissed. He pulled the metal chair towards him and slumped onto it, placing his chin on folded hands "I don't know why I bother trying, I'm just going to fuck it up anyway."

Samantha blinked, not sure she'd heard him right. "No!" she vehemently marched towards him, (and feeling like a complete idiot as she did so). "I've seen you rehearse and I think you're really, really good!" She was being honest too, he put his all into the part. Nathan shook his head, "Whatever."

 _Hm..._

Samantha crossed her arms and looked at her shoes, trying desperately to think of something supportive she could say that he might actually believe. She didn't want to lie and say his father really _was_ proud of him, nor that the other students of Blackwell wouldn't take any opportunity to mock him. Her thoughts trailed to Victoria Chase. She and Nathan had "sort of" become friends over the past month. They talked to each other at least. It had actually done him some good, having someone to talk to that _didn't_ hang out with him just because he had money. Unfortunately, Victoria was caught up with Rachel and the role of Prospera! _Give him help._ Samantha thought of Chloe and Rachel, their friendship (or- whatever their relationship was) built on just...having someone, someone that listened, someone that cared about the same things. Samantha didn't really have anyone like that, but she knew she could become one.

"You know I heard Victoria say that you uh- you took pictures," Samantha closed her eyes briefly and prayed that it was the right thing to say. Nathan blinked, "Yeah." he looked a little dumbstruck. After a short pause however he rubbed anxiously at his arm and asked, "Do you want to see one?" Samantha nodded, fighting back the urge to smile like a loon as the handsome young man stood up and went behind the divider. She heard a zipper, then some rustling. Her heart did flip flops in her chest. Nathan came back to Samantha with a small notebook between painted fingers. He approached apprehensively, as though he thought she might laugh and change her mind. She didn't.

Samantha tried hard not to blush when he came up next to her, his shoulder touching hers so lightly it kind of tickled. She could feel his body heat, hear his steady breathing. Nathan flipped open the notebook and paged through it until he found the one he wanted, then he shoved it forcefully in her direction. Samantha looked down at a black and white photograph with something between awe and disgust. Flies swarmed over a rotted piece of fruit, a few maggots poking out of soft flesh. She could feel Nathan's stare on her, boring into her like laser beams. It was gross, but… there was something about the picture that struck her. The desolation perhaps? She couldn't put words to it. Nathan made a noise in the back of his throat and flipped to the next page where another picture had been carefully placed. More black and white, a tall building with a man leaning out of one of the windows. Smoke rose from a cigarette, pinched between pointer and middle finger. Samantha had to admit she liked that one better than the first, if only because it was less vomit inducing. "Nathan," she exhaled, fingertips fluttering over her lips, "These are… these are really good." She wondered how many there were inside the notebook, and how many were like the ones he'd just shown her. They were sad. Samantha did not proclaim to know much about photography (her creativity leaned more towards poetry and short stories), but she could appreciate the angles he'd used and the subjects within. Nathan managed a tight little smile, saying nothing as he flipped the book closed.

Samantha tugged at the edge of her pink sleeve, very aware that neither of them had moved away from the other. Nathan traced circles on the notebook, jaw muscles tight but a soft stillness to the rest of his body. The young woman swallowed, "I know it doesn't help when I say things like this but...I really do think you're going to do a great job," she pressed her shoulder against his a little bit harder than retreated, "You have talent." Nathan sighed through his nose, "I- Thanks."

" _Sweet tarnation! We're ruined, the show is ruined!"_

Both heads snapped up to face the entrance to the tent. Nathan raised an eyebrow, "That doesn't bode well," he commented, setting his book aside and walking towards the opening. Samantha stayed back, afraid that someone might see her. Nathan looked at her from over his bony shoulder, "I should go see-" his voice trailed off. Samantha nodded, "And I need to find a seat," she smiled, "Is it safe for me to go?" Nathan poked his head back out of the entryway. He raised a hand and waved her on without turning his head again. Samantha stumbled forwards until she too was visible to anyone that looked. She could see a crowd gathered around Mr. Keaton, but none were looking her way. Samantha steeled her nerves and took up a sort of tip-toe'd trot away from the group, Chloe and Rachel coming into view in the corner of her vision, paying attention to each other more than anything. When she finally felt safe, Samantha looked back at Nathan. He had joined the group of actors, listening intently to what the director had to say. The back of his head ducked a little bit, and tilted. The corners of Samantha's small mouth upturned as a fondness beyond anything she'd ever felt consumed her. He would be okay, she knew that. At least, for the play…

* * *

 **Apologize for any OOCness, this is the first time I've ever written for Lis in any way shape or form *shrug* (I use the copy paste method, so I'm also sorry for any formatting issues LOL)**

 **I seriously hope that Samantha just moves to another town or something, and Nathan doesn't chase her away somehow (Anger issues? Emotionally abused? Undefined mental illness? Yeah, it's a possibility even this early on)… Either way it doesn't end well for him *cries*, but I want Samantha to be okay dangit!**


End file.
